


New Enemies, Old Comfort

by IndigoDream



Series: Bribe & Reward fics [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: A monster is hunting in the woods, and Geralt takes a contract to kill it. After getting contradictory testimonies of victims, he sets out, Jaskier waiting for him back at the village.He comes back to his bard in a worse shape than he had gone away, but Jaskier is always there to take care of him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Bribe & Reward fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745836
Comments: 13
Kudos: 154





	New Enemies, Old Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaliciousVegetarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/gifts).



> Whoop! Some hurt/comfort for my good friend, ze is amazing!! A (hopefully good) reward/motivation fic for you to get through the day <3

The hunt is not going as it should. There is something wrong about the beasts that the villagers insist are in the woods. The woman who had hired Geralt had told him not to listen to the fools of the village, she had insisted it was only one beast, but Geralt prefers learning through more than one person, so he had asked around, and he had gotten more than one answer. 

"Beasts as high as mountains!" Had been an answer, and so had "smaller than worms, master Witcher, sir, and wriggling in your clothes!" 

Neither of those two particular testimonies had been helpful in anyway. Everyone claimed to have seen the beasts, but no one could give Geralt a clear description, and the vague ones they gave ended up contradicting one another. So he had chosen to investigate on his own, the way he should have from the beginning. He had left Jaskier in the woman's home, although the bard had protested at being left behind. 

"If you don't come back in one piece, I swear-" he had started scolding Geralt as he laced up the witcher's armor, but said witcher had interrupted him with a peck on the lips. "Gods, it's unfair when you do this." 

Geralt is drawn away from his thoughts when there is a sharp movement on his left, and he draws his silver sword. When he faces the bushes where the shadow hid, he frowns. He can't sense anything there anymore, even tho he could have sworn-- 

Something cuts at his leg and he swings backwards, groaning. The cut is shallow, but it still hurts, being right behind his knee. His sword falls on air, and Geralt stays in a defensive pose this time. He hesitates for a second to take a potion to see better, but there is still daylight, and there is a chance taking Cat would burn his eyes now. The woods aren't too dark just yet, so he resolved to wait until later. 

The thing, whatever it is, moves on Geralt's right, faster than the Witcher can swing his sword, and then it's in front of him and a new gash appear on his thigh. Geralt catches glimpses of a short stature, of pointed ears and long fangs, but not of much else. Getting back in his defensive position, he tries to remember his lessons on the rare non-humans who exist in this part of the Continent. 

With the small glimpse he had, and the descriptions he gathered from the villagers, Geralt quickly arrives to the conclusion that it is an imp. Although rare, the small creatures can shapeshift briefly in order to capture a prey, and while they don't usually eat humans, there are cannibalistic imps, which Geralt is pretty sure is what the little demon barreling for his kneecaps is. 

"You recognize the human-eating ones,” Vesemir had drawled out when he had instructed Geralt, "by the three markings on their left cheek and the lack of an index on their dominant hand. They offer to their god when they begin hunting for human flesh." 

If there is one in this forest, it means that there is a pack of cannibal imps roaming around. Which means Geralt will have to discard it as well. Just wonderful. 

Killing the first imp takes longer than it should, and he is bleeding from dozens of shallow cuts by the end of it. It says some of his energ, but he drags on forward regardless. Even if his contract only mentioned one beast, he has a duty to the people living around this forest to get rid of the monsters. 

The path to the cannibal imps is easier to follow than it should be, which means the imps are not worried by the idea of possible invaders. Just wonderful for Geralt. Thankfully, when he reaches the camp, he notices only nine other imps. This isn't one of their true campement, the witcher would hazard; this is more likely to be a hunting post for a larger colony farther away into the mountains. He swears under his breath before attacking. 

His movements are easily intercepted when he attacks, and more and more cuts appear on him, as well as bite marks and claw marks. He sends the last one's head rolling clean off the body, but he himself is panting heavily. As he looks down to make sure he will be able to make it back, he notices the slowly growing pool of his own blood. 

Swearing, he cleans his sword in a patch of grass before making his way back to the village, back to Jaskier and his pay. It’s not a long trek back, but it’s an exhausting one. He’s gotten more cuts than he had thought he would, and the blood loss is starting to catch up to him, making him want to sit down and rest for a couple of hours. He knows that if he does that, he’s as good as dead though, so he keeps going. 

It takes him three hours to make it back to the village, when it had only taken him an hour or so on the way to the first imp. He keeps stopping to rest for a few seconds, drawing in sharp breaths, and when he sees the lights of the village, he realizes that night has also fallen in the meantime. Damn it. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier is waiting at the entrance of the village, pacing with a hand on his belt, where Geralt knows a silver dagger is hidden, and when he sees the witcher, he runs to him, stopping abruptly right before embracing him. “Sweet Melitele, the beasts got you badly, didn’t they?” 

Geralt grunts and drags Jaskier in his arms, pushing his nose in his lover’s hair and smelling the comforting scent of lavender. Jaskier always insists on washing his hair with lavender oil, insisting that it protects his hair. To Geralt, the scent is one of safety and comfort; having Jaskier in his arms and being able to sense the delicate scent is a privilege that they can’t indulge in during the hunts, and not often in villages like this one. But Geralt can’t muster the energy to care about what people will think. Right now, all that matters is that he has Jaskier with him. 

“Let me take care of you, love,” Jaskier murmurs gently, and he bends down, lifting Geralt in his arms almost effortlessly. “We have got to treat those wounds before anything happens.” 

Jaskier doesn’t often carry Geralt this way, mostly because it’s rare that Geralt allows it, but he doesn’t ask this time and Geralt doesn’t protest. He lets himself be carried back to the house of the woman who hired him, and she nods at them as Jaskier walks in the house. 

There is a bath set aside for them, and Jaskier lowers Geralt on a stool next to it, chiding him with a click of his tongue when he tries to move. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Deft fingers are working at his armour, undoing the leather straps and moving away the shoulder pads. “You are wounded, Geralt. Let me take care of you, please.” 

As always, Jaskier’s pleading is too effective, and Geralt can only nod, weak to his lover’s demands. “Alright, don’t look at me like that, I’m letting you do all the hard work.” 

“It’s never work to take care of you, Geralt,” Jaskier whispers and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “I always want to help you. I knew I should have come on this hunt, I—“ 

“No,” Geralt says and grabs his hand. “I would rather you stay behind each time, if it means you are protected.” 

“It means nothing to me to be protected if I can’t take care of you,” Jaskier says, voice full of unshed tears. “You matter more to me than my life in this existence does…” 

Being reminded of Jaskier’s godliness always digs a sharp knife between Geralt’s ribs, trying to pierce at his heart. One day, he will grow older than Jaskier, or he will die from his wounds. But Jaskier will keep on living, until something from this world kills his current form. Which is exactly why Geralt won’t have him follow on hunts; if Jaskier is hurt badly enough, he could die and not be reincarnated for centuries. Geralt refuses to let that happen. 

“No more talking about this,” Jaskier sighs and keeps at Geralt’s armour, quickly removing it from Geralt’s body, and then turning his attention to boots and pants, making quick work of this as well. “This doesn’t look good, Geralt. Did you take any rest before coming back?” 

“Couldn’t,” Geralt grunts, trying to ignore the sight of his battered body. Blue and black bruises bloom on his legs and torso, the marred skin mixing with the dried blood and mud that still cakes him. “Was afraid I wasn’t going to make it back at all if I stopped.” 

“Shit.” Jaskier finishes undressing him, and then he is lifting him again, placing him in the lukewarm water, which he brings back to a bright flash of warmth and comfort with a flick of his tongue and an angry muttering. 

Jaskier’s powers are a mystery to Geralt still, despite the years he has known his bard. One moment they are a gentle lull under his skin, the next a bright flare that comes out in roars, and at another time they can manifest as a protective shield. Most time, Jaskier seems just as clueless about what he can or cannot do, but when he demands it, his powers come to him on instinct. 

“How are you feeling?” Jaskier asks after a few minutes of gentle washing. “Anywhere stirs any particular pain?” 

Geralt shakes his head, moving a hand to caress Jaskier’s cheek. “I’m already feeling better.” 

“Liar,” the bard answers fondly, leaning into the touch. “I can’t heal all the wounds, but I can make sure you don’t lose more blood from them… I’ll stitch those I can’t close completely, and then it’s bedrest for you.” 

“As long as I have my bedmate with me, I’m quite glad to take some rest,” Geralt murmurs cheekily, grinning a bit at his lover. “I can’t deny you anything after all.” 

“Oh, you can absolutely deny me many things,” Jaskier pouts. 

“Only when it’s your life at risk. Are you still upset?” 

“Why would I be upset that you left without me, when I had wanted to come to protect you, and that you come back to me wounded and in a worse shape than usual? Silly me, being upset about that.” 

“It’s not silly,” Geralt whispers, gently sitting up to press his forehead against Jaskier’s. “I’m sorry that I keep worrying you like this.” 

“As long as you come back to me,” Jaskier sighs and closes his eyes for a second. “I can endure anything, as long as you come back to me.” 

Geralt moves again, pressing his lips to Jaskier and letting the other man kiss back, both of them taking the time to reassure themselves that yes, they are here, together, alive, and this isn’t about to change. 

Afterwards, Jaskier works on the wounds, mixing magic and stitching, giving Geralt a potion to drink to avoid more loss of blood. It’s not completely unpleasant, and Geralt knows instantly that it is not one of his potions, but he doesn’t protest it. Anything against the disgusting taste of a witcher’s potions. 

When he finally finds himself lying down on a bed, it is more comfortable than he had expected it, and he realizes that Jaskier has once again used his powers to make him more comfortable. He sighs, pressing into the silk sheets and feathery pillows, and waits for his lover to join him. Jaskier nestles himself against him, holding him tightly, and Geralt holds him back just as tightly. They fall asleep this way, their arms around one another, and Geralt feels at peace despite his wounds.

**Author's Note:**

> :D 
> 
> I hope yall enjoyed it! If you did, don't hesitate to leave a comment/kudos, they make my days! You can also come chat me up on tumblr (@saltytransidiot) :D


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